On Your Six
by AngelDormais
Summary: Storming heaven and beyond. .:A collection of Garrus/Shepard ficlets:. .:Done for Shakarian Sundays:. .:Accepting Prompts:.
1. Introduction

**A/N:**

So, first of all, I know that full chapters of author's notes are against the rules. But I'm a little neurotic and cringe at the idea of shoving this thing into the same chapter as one of the ficlets, so...yeah, I'm going to do it anyway. WHOOPS

If none of you are aware, over on tumblr there's a little thing called Shakarian Sundays. Basically, once a week, people will post fanart or fics of anything and everything Shakarian! I myself fall into the fic category - or more specifically, ficlets - but I have one problem: I suffer from chronic writers' block and eternally struggle to come up with ideas of my own.

So, that's where I ask for the help of the fandom. In your reviews, just as an aside or whatever, please give me prompts! They don't have to be in-depth; in fact, the simpler the better, as it allows me to run with my imagination. Not to worry; if I choose your prompt, I'll give you credit at the beginning of the ficlet.

Please note that I'll take whatever prompts strike my fancy at the time, not necessarily what order they come in...and I can't promise that I'll update _every_ Sunday, because real life and all that. Or I might fill more than one prompt a week! It all depends on my mood. But hey, I really love this pairing and I want to show it, and I know there are those of you out there who really want to see things done but don't have the time to write yourselves.

I'm pretty versatile in what I write; the only thing I don't care to do is smut, but I may take a crack at even that every now and then! Just put forward a prompt and let me do the rest |D

I think that just about covers it. Please enjoy, and I wish you all many happy Shakarian Sundays to come!

_-AngelDormante_


	2. Insubordination

_Tumblr Prompt (anonymous):_

_Its been 2 weeks since Shepard was realised from the hospital. She hadden been sleeping well _

* * *

"I guess it would've been too much to ask for," she says a little weakly, staring up at the ceiling.

Shepard feels Garrus hone in right away, the bed sheet gently pulling as he shifts to face her; he's been more attentive as they sleep, lately, ready to feed her painkillers or massage her chronically sore shoulder or just lay his arm over her, but she doesn't want any of that right now. When she rolls her head to look at him, he's gazing at her with questioning eyes.

"For them to stop," she adds.

He doesn't need to ask what she means. Shepard watches his mandibles twitch, the sleepy fog draining from his eyes as they sharpen, and the bed trembles slightly at the rumble that goes through his chest. "I'm still here," he reminds her softly, his hand lifting to trace her jawline.

Her laugh is breathy as she lifts her own hand to cup his. "That's still all I need."

She pushes away the covers to get up, but this time, he doesn't let go. With a single yank she's pulled back down onto the bed, and she blinks when she finds herself wrapped in his arms like a giant teddy bear. "I have to veto that one, Shepard. I think you could use some proper sleep as well."

"Vakarian," she says warningly, but he just curls closer, his breath tickling her scalp. She half-heartedly knees his thigh. "_You're_ going to need a stretcher in about two seconds."

Garrus gives a snore that is completely and totally fake. Shepard gives up and relaxes, head leaning against his leathery chestplate, and decides that the round goes to him.

And this time, she dreams of how to get back at him.


	3. Safety Precautions

_Tumblr Prompt (by unidentifiedspoon):_

_Always ready to help a shakarianist in need xD How about Shepard finally gets Garrus to go swimming?_

* * *

She's been swimming laps in the pool for about five minutes before she finally realizes that Garrus isn't with her, and when she looks around, she finds him standing awkwardly at the poolside in his little pair of black and blue swim shorts.

"Garrus, come in," she calls out as she swims over to meet him. "The water's fine!"

"Why do humans always say that? I thought salarians were the ones who evolved from amphibians," he mutters crossly. He glares at the water as though it had just scandalized him.

Shepard hauls herself up to her elbows on the pool's edge, raising her eyebrows as she looks up at him. "Garrus, it'll be fine. See that asari over there?" She jerks a thumb over her shoulder to the alien, who's perched on a tall chair blowing her whistle at some young krogan. "She's a lifeguard. She'll use her biotics to lift you right out of the water if you start to sink."

"Which will be the moment I get in," he mumbles. He pulls at the circle of fabric attached to the outer ring of his collar; she'd watched him slap it on with some kind of adhesive, but still has no idea what the hell it is. "There's a reason none of us here are in the water, you know."

He's right; she looks around and sees some turians scattered about, but they're all eating at the tables or waving at their swimming companions from land. Shepard rolls her eyes. "None of them are here with me. Garrus Vakarian," she says, kicking away from the wall, "I order you to get in this pool right now."

The turian deflates. "Not fair, Shepard," he whines, but obediently creeps closer to the water's edge. He stares into the depths just long enough for Shepard to consider pulling him in, but finally, he draws a deep breath and jumps in.

The splash is bigger than Shepard expected, and she lifts her arm to shield herself from the spray. When she lowers it, she sees Garrus flailing in the water like some kind of crazed pyjack.

Before she can even swim towards him, Garrus pauses struggling just long enough to reach for his collar, and pulls a cord that she hadn't seen before. Instantly the fabric inflates, creating an inner tube around Garrus' carapace. He bobs up and down, spitting water.

Shepard stares.

"I told you," he mumbles after a moment. The asari is watching them, but he waves her down.

"Garrus—" Shepard covers her mouth to stunt the laughter that suddenly threatens to spring forward. "What the hell is that?"

He ducks his head, half of his face disappearing beneath the inner tube. Shepard chokes. "Turians aren't made to swim. This is—standard safety gear. Military grade."

Shepard's mind is suddenly graced with the image of a dozen or so turians floating in the water with their little inner tubes, firing their guns at land with serious expressions. And just like that, she breaks.

Garrus huffs and paddles towards the poolside. "I'm going to get my visor," he grunts as he lifts himself out and sprints off, and Shepard covers her mouth and nose, sliding underwater, so that he can't hear her laughing as he goes.


	4. Five Word Prompts

_1. shackles_

Sometimes, he feels like he's chafing so badly under the red tape that it's going to just keep rubbing and sawing away his skin until there's nothing left but bones; nothing left but the framework that his father gave him. By the book, his bones say, you do things right or you don't do them at all. And no matter the blood and skin you pile over that, the bones are always there.

When his military service ends and he joins up with C-Sec, his superiors are more than willing to pin him under their thumbs in his father's absence. You're a damn Vakarian, one harshly reprimands him, and you've been riding on that name so long that you're going to drag it down. Do things by the book. Do it by the book or don't do it at all.

Garrus doesn't give a damn about the book, and it one day it lands him in a shootout alongside Commander Shepard at Dr. Michel's clinic. Afterwards, he learns that she's going after the rogue Spectre he's been trying to nail for days. He pleads to join her, to escape this world of regulations and limits and follow something other than his legacy for once.

When she accepts his offer with a handshake, he feels the weight lift from his bones, and realizes that his heart has been the one leading him all this time.

* * *

_2. drive_

Shepard hangs back with her arms crossed, irately eying the vehicle. "I told you this would happen."

"I didn't believe you."

"There's a reason I endure being the butt of all your driving jokes, Vakarian. They're all true."

Still flabbergasted, Garrus shakes his head and sticks his arms out towards the wreckage, looking back at her. "Shepard_, _it _doesn't move_ off of the tracks. Crashing it should have been impossible."

She smirks proudly. "When has that ever stopped me?"

He sighs. Glancing up again, he surveys the damage once more: the fake, miniature Mako had been totaled against the pillars of the ruins, which had been carefully sculpted to resemble those in real Sur'Kesh tombs. He winced as he wondered how much the amusement park had paid to create this ride. "Point taken."

* * *

_3. grave_

"I would have liked to meet her," Shepard whispers hoarsely. Her arm bumps Garrus' as she reaches for his hand, twining their fingers together.

Garrus rumbles thoughtfully. "She would've liked you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." his voice cracks. "You piss off my dad."

She laughs, a quiet, subdued sound, and leans her head into his shoulder. His fingers clench tightly around hers, a shrill vibration humming in his chest. He turns to bury his face in her hair.

Shepard wishes she knew how to tell whether a turian was crying.

* * *

_4. heat_

Garrus looks at her like she's sprouted another head when she tells him that she loved the cold. She remembers his pointed words to her on Noveria all those years ago, how he'd headed straight for the cafe at the Mezzanine on Port Hanshan and ordered something warm to drink. The sweltering, humid skies of Virmire had suited him much better, allowing him to dance around his human allies who grew sluggish from the heat.

"It made me feel alive," she added, looking up through the skylight of her cabin. "The nippiness and the shock it gives your body. I loved it."

Garrus taps a finger on the armrest. "Hmm. Speaking in past tense?"

Shepard is quiet, her eyes never leaving the stars shining through the skylight. She smiles thinly. "Space is freezing."

They sit in silence for a few moments. Garrus' gaze follows hers to the empty vastness above, and she wonders if he's thinking what he is-that it isn't just above, but below, behind, everywhere. Always. No matter where you are, surrounded by nothing but a frigid vacuum.

There's a sudden tug on her arm. She wordlessly makes room for him to sit next to her, leaning into his neck while his arm drapes around her. "You're warm," she faintly notes.

He hums again. "You know I hate the cold."

* * *

_5. whisper_

"Garrus," she chokes feebly, her arm outstretched. "Garrus..."

The shuttle is pinning him flat against the floor, a cobalt blue pool spreading beneath him. He scrabbles for a purchase on the sleek metal floor, its surface marred by streaks of ash and blood spatter, and he's speaking back to her, but his gnarled visor is flashing rapidly and hers must be too because hardly anything recognizable is making it through the translator. His eyes flit between hers and the metal spike jutting through her, nailing her down to the floor.

Her world spins, arm growing heavy enough to drop down. It makes a light splash in her blood as it flops. Shepard grins, suddenly mirthful. "A couple of regular shish kebabs, huh?"

"Shepard..." she glances up and sees that his visor has rebooted. Garrus' mandibles are slack against his soot-covered face as he reaches for her, looking like he'd be willing to part with his entire lower half if it would let him drag himself over to her. "Sh...shep..."

Shepard shakes her head.

Garrus stops, eyes lidding, and lets himself drop to the floor. They listen to the symphony of gunfire around them. Bullets thudding into flesh. Screeching tire wheels. And the lyrics, the shouted orders from each side. Her hand twitches uselessly for her pistol. A reflex.

"Garrus." She reaches her hand out again, her fingers splaying across the floor. The metal bar pulls at her innards. "Meet me there?"

His laugh sounds like a gurgle as he reaches his own hand out for hers. They manage to touch fingertips.

"On your six," he whispers.


End file.
